


The "Best-Film-Ever" Made a Pork and I Have No Idea Who Was Possessed by The-Way-Home. Now He’s a Police Station and I Can’t Get Child Care.

by BaronVonBork



Category: Holmes & Watson (2018), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 21:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18199259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BaronVonBork/pseuds/BaronVonBork
Summary: The result of a Twitter challenge from @EmmaGrant_01"Type “The title of my next fic is” and let autocomplete do its thing..."I got "The title of my next fic is the best film ever made a pork and I have no idea who was possessed by the way home now he's a police station and I can't get child care."





	The "Best-Film-Ever" Made a Pork and I Have No Idea Who Was Possessed by The-Way-Home. Now He’s a Police Station and I Can’t Get Child Care.

The occult and Sherlock Holmes should never be mixed. That was my big mistake. Sure, Holmes and Watson was the best film ever. Sure, Satan and his minions like movies. But did that make it right to summon his unholy servants for a film night because I’d managed to get a pirate DVD at a car-boot sale the previous Sunday? No. No it did not.  
It was fortunate that the battery was low on my Ouija Board and I only managed to summon three demons. I’d forgotten to go shopping and a tube of Pringles and some flat cola wasn’t going to satisfy many more.  
I was excited to show them the film. After brief introductions my new demon friends; Demon Fourteen, Evil Lord The-Way-Home and Douglas “The Bastard” Anthrax, were keen to get down to watching the movie. So I put it on, poured us some drinks and opened the Pringles. Prawn cocktail flavour. Nevermind, they’d do.  
All was going well to start with. As Watson was saved by Holmes’s giant marrow, we agreed it was the best film ever. As Moriarty was let off in court, we maintained that it was the best film ever. As Watson proclaimed his love for Queen Victoria, we were unified by the objective fact that this was the best film ever. But then things went wrong.  
The flat beverage reacted violently with the demons’ bile. Of course, I should have read the warnings on the Ouija Board before I served the drinks, but hindsight is always 20-20. It was too late now. Evil Lord The-Way-Home had already started on his. With a sudden pop, he exploded, spraying evil all over the room. An especially large chunk of cranial evil hit the DVD player which immediately began ejecting a huge misshapen cut of pork from the DVD slot. My new carpet was ruined. Eggy evil was sprayed across most of it. Even if I could get that out, the pork juices looked set to colour it for good.  
I ran off to the kitchen to fetch some Vanish and a damp sponge. But I hadn’t bothered to check on Fourteen and Douglas. They had been sat right next to The-Way-Home. They were covered in gibletty evil. When I returned with my cleaning supplies, I was greeted by the sight of the two remaining demons screaming double-strength evil into the air. The twisted soul of The-Way-Home leapt between them, wreaking havoc with their extra-dimensional essences. This was no good for any of us and I was forced to pause Holmes and Watson (which was still proving itself to be the best film ever made despite the noise).  
I turned to my Whittaker’s Household Demon Management Manual for guidance and soon found what to do. Once armed with a bowl, three socks and a pointy stick I was ready to exorcise The-Way-Home so the rest of us might stand a chance at survival. But first I had to identify where he was. And Fourteen and Douglas were both in such a panic that it was impossible for my non-magic eyes to tell who he had possessed and who was just frightened. I paused too long.  
With a shriek, Demon Fourteen turned into a bloodied 1970’s rural police station. His sudden growth in size, due to his three stories and sizable chambers, knocked Douglas “The Bastard” Anthrax so hard he was obliged to turn into a three-month old baby and the Pringles were knocked all over the already marred carpet.  
Reader, I was livid. And my lividity lasts to this day. Now I am forced to share my home with a police station and a baby which vomits fart-scented demon guts wherever it pleases on an almost hourly basis. In the circumstances, I can get no child care. So I am forced to remain home watching Holmes and Watson on a loop all day every day.  
Still, it is the best film ever. And I do have plenty of pork to eat. So it isn’t all bad.


End file.
